A long day at work
finds me a bowl of sevaiyaan
waiting at home with a friend
sharing her warmth of Ramadaan
We exchange smiles and small conversations
in the backdrop of a TV closing up
on spuming swears, stones,
ejaculating blood
- of a deeper red
my friend wears a kameez,
my friend wears a kameez,
enveloping her
skintone and hopes
The golden zari
delicate like the strands of noodles
sugared and soaked in the bowl of milk,
shimmer a tranquility of the evening light
that would soon paint itself
in my diyas for Diwali
I sashay between this moment and
the ones gone by…
…The
cab driver feels his Taqiyah,
answering a call for his well -
being
and the curfew
…those roads to Imambara
cloaked with elusive rumours
and hasty tracks
…the forgotten routes
and bangles of Charminar
An
existence
on
this road feigning normalcy
I empty furrowed brows
into the Muezzin’s call,
into the sacred conch,
into the cupped vacuum of the crescent moon
invoking smiles, conversations
and a hollow resilience
Under currents of religious factionalism never die. Do they?
diya: lamps we light for diwali
Sevaiyaan: Indian noodles roasted, and cooked in milk and
sugar
Imambara: A shrine in the city of Lucknow, India built by
Shia muslims.
Charminar: one of the oldest minarets in the city of Hyderabad,
India.
kameez: Indian wear for women
Taqiyah: Prayer cap worn by Muslims.
zari: threadwork
Taqiyah: Prayer cap worn by Muslims.
zari: threadwork
For dverse Poetics where Mary tends the bar. This was an old piece and thanks to Abhra's twitter feed i got time to polish this. A bit more is required, well, revision is an on-going process. :)